


Universal Coding

by Insert_witty_username



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (not shown tho), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drunk Confession, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, IronStrange, M/M, One Night Stands, Rebound Sex, Stephen is dying inside, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange parenting Peter Parker | Supremefamily | Strange Family, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unrequited Love, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 22:29:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20366140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insert_witty_username/pseuds/Insert_witty_username
Summary: Stephen looks into the future on Titan to find a way to defeat Thanos. He counted on seeing many things, but falling in love with Tony Stark was not one of them. Unfortunately, as much as he longs for a happy ending, the universe has other plans for them.Alternatively,Stephen falls in love, Tony is an oblivious idiot, and Stephen's bad at coping.





	Universal Coding

It had taken nine seconds for Stephen Strange to fall in love. Well, nine seconds in real time, but for Stephen it had been years.

They had been on Titan, preparing for Thanos’s arrival. Stephen had been scanning through possible futures to try and find a way to beat their latest advisory. He watched millions of possible timelines unfold but it only took one for Stephen to realise just how important Tony Stark was. In every future they even came close to winning the battle, it was always Stark who saved the day. He was the key to everything.

Stephen had looked further into the future, past the battle on Titan. There were infinite outcomes; far too many to comprehend. So Stephen focused in on the futures influenced by the two most probable outcomes of the battle. Either Thanos got the time stone and snapped away half the universe or they stopped him before he could.

Snap. Tony was gone. The guardians’s ship was destroyed in the battle and Stephen didn’t have enough power to portal back to Earth. They were stranded. Peter had tried fixing the ship at first, but the tech was far too advanced and time far too short. They died on Titan.  
No snap. They went back to Earth. No one knew what had happened in space. Tony went back to Pepper and started a family. Peter resumed his role as ‘friendly neighborhood spiderman.’ The Guardians went back to… whatever it was that they did. Stephen went back to the Sanctum Sanctorum and continued to defend the world against mystical threats.

Snap. Stephen died this time. So did Peter. But everyone else on Titan pushed on. They made it back to Earth. But Earth hadn’t made it. It was a mess. But Stark, Stark kept fighting. He pulled the last of the Avengers together and went after Thanos. He saved the world with sheer determination and will power. But even as he did, even as he saved the universe, all that brilliant man could feel was self-hatred. He brought half the universe back to life yet he couldn’t see past his own flaws.

Most of the outcomes were similar. Stephen was able to water it down to two scenarios. If Tony died, Thanos won. If he lived, the universe was saved.

But there were more. Others that caught Stephen’s eye. Tiny details hidden deep in the folds of both types of futures. He knew he shouldn’t look, but something about the broken man intrigued Stephen. So he took a quick peek.

They had just won. High on euphoria and adrenaline, they piled back into the Milano and headed for Earth. Then, after a round of the Ravengers horrible, tar-like alcohol, Stephen had pressed his lips to Tony’s and sparks had flown.

Stephen frowned, uneasiness growing inside of him. He shouldn’t be looking at that. Of all the possible outcomes this was the most illogical. But he couldn’t help it. Tony was… incredible.

He bit his lip, torn between an urge to keep watching and guilt at watching something so… scandalous. But it’s not like it would take a while. He was scanning through futures at a rate of 1,555,622.78 multiverses a second. Time was no problem. And it wasn’t like Tony would ever know.

Stephen gave in. Just one more, he told himself. Just one more.

The war was over. They’d returned home heros, stories of Thanos and the day the Avengers almost lost flooding the news. But after many months of constant coverage and annoyingly persistent paparazzi following them around until the only way Stephen could get a decent cup of tea was to fully transfigure himself with an illusion spell, the buzz finally died down. New adversaries emerged, new battles were fought. The war for the infinity stones was just one of many.

Stephen had returned to the Sanctum Sanctorum and settled back down, resuming his life before the war. That is, until the night Tony Stark showed up at his door, bleeding out and desperate. Stephen had stitched him up, cleaning the wound and scraping out the nanites (yet another adversary of Stark industries trying to defeat Iron Man with Stark’s own technology) from their place embedded deep in Tony’s lung.  
It was his first surgery since the accident, yet his hands were as steady as ever.

Tony had woken the next day and questioned the doctor and Stephen had answered each one, matching the genius’s wit blow for blow. And finally, Tony Stark, billionaire, genius, playboy, philanthropist, had cracked a smile and clapped Stephen on the back, conversation slipping from playful jabs into a genuine shared interest in science.

And thus their partnership was born.

It started slowly. Tony had wanted to try and build a more realistic artificial intelligence, one that operated on a similar level as a human. And that meant mapping the neural networks of the brain and translating them into code. He had the second part down, but he needed help with the prior. And who better to help than the famed neurosurgeon Doctor Stephen Strange?

Long days in the laboratories of the Avengers facility turned into long nights, and long nights into invitations to crash at the compound. Co-workers turned into friends which, in turn, became confidants. 

Stephen talked about how much he missed the hospital and Tony hinted at a deep dissatisfaction with his life. Key word being hinted. The man was about as open as a steel safe buried at the bottom of the Mariana Trench. But Stephen… Stephen went all out. It had been so long since he’d had someone to talk to, and maybe he went a little overboard, prattling on about Wong, Dormammu, and how annoying the cloak could be sometimes- Hell, Stephen even told Tony about Donna and how much he wished he could have saved her. He didn’t really know why. There was just something soothing about the other man’s presence. He trusted Tony.

As the year stretched on the other Avengers grew used to seeing the sorcerer around. It had been a bit of a shock at first, seeing as the first interaction any of them had had with the master of the mystic arts had been when Rhodey had gotten up for a midnight snack only to have a small, sparking portal open in the fridge, a hand emerge, grab an apple from the top shelf, and disappear. At the time, he had written it off as a sign of sleep deprivation, but when Stephen had portaled from Tony’s room into the kitchen the next morning to get coffee clad in one of Tony’s sleep shirts, Rhodey had a sneaking suspicion that the fridge incident would not be a one time phenomenon.

But after a while it was commonplace to spot the Doctor floating around the compound, rifling through ancient spell books and notes of code or meditating in the garden. And to Stephen, the compound became a second home. He joined them for movie night, always taking his place on Tony’s right hand side. Connected by lingering gazes and gentle laughs, the two were inseparable.

However, despite their obvious chemistry, they were the last ones to realise they were in love. Naturally.

Natasha noticed it first. The assassin had been walking to get cereal after a mission- Lucky Charms never failed to cheer her up after a light session of prisoner interrogation with a side order of waterboarding and psychological torture- when she’d stumbled upon the two dipshits laughing over a set of blueprints at the kitchen counter. Tony’s hand had fallen on Stephen’s arm and the sorcerer had stilled, pupils dilated, high cheekbones dusted a light pink. Natasha had promptly turned and walked in the opposite direction.

Next it was Clint. He hadn’t meant to do it, really. He was just innocently crawling around the vents over the lab one night, casually eavesdropping on the others. Or vent-dropping, rather. He’d paused by a nearby air duct and was having a face off with a rat who was, quite rudely, blocking his path. They were in the middle of an intense staring contest, one which Clint was undoubtedly winning, when the sound of laughter distracted him. The rat scuttled off and Clint had scooted over to the vent, peering out to see Tony and Stephen in the lab, making jokes just a bit too suggestive to be platonic. Tony made a sly joke about his dick and Stephen had rolled his eyes and pretended to cover their AI’s microphones bashfully.

Peter was one of the last, just before Steve. He had been working on his suit at the facility- trying over and over again to create a self-expanding chemical web mixture (one that would hopefully shoot over the length of a football field [he hated running]) when a portal had opened in the lab had opened and the two had walked through, unaware of Peter’s presence. They had teetered through the lab, Stephen clinging to Tony for dear life and Tony doing the same. In other words, they were drunk off their asses. Tony spotted Peter and his eyes lit up.

“Hey! Underoos! What are you still doin’ up?” Tony slurred. Stephen leaned in and whispered something in his ear. Tony’s cheeks flushed and he shoved the sorcerer playfully, laugh laced with the occasional hiccup. “Stephen!” He exclaimed. “Not in front of the kid!”  
Needless to say the whole encounter had been incredibly uncomfortable.

It took awhile, but eventually all the Avengers noticed the tension building between the two so called ‘research-partners.’ They all approached it differently, however. Natasha made sly remarks in an attempt to force the two dimwits to acknowledge their feelings. Clint and Scott made dumb jokes. Rhodey kept a wide berth whenever the two were together in a futile attempt to avoid their dreamy, lovesick smiles. Thor and Bruce thought it was cute and were looking forwards to a possible double date in the future. Peter was just happy to have not only one, but two dads now. Steve lectured them on conduct and sent them each a very strongly worded letter reminding them that being in the Avengers was not a joke, but a responsibility and that fraternization was inappropriate. But one of the worst reactions was Carol. The captain had come back to brief the others on the news from space, and upon seeing the two giggling away like lovesick teenagers, had marched over, congradulated them, and asked if they were interested in joining her tentative LGBTQ+ pride federation (not club, not alliance, but federation.) for queer superheroes. The two in question had clammed up and denied any involvement together. But that was the first hint the two so-called-geniuses needed to start pondering the exact manner of their relationship. Honestly, even with six PHD’s between them, they were both dumb as bricks.

It had been FRIDAY who had told Tony. Stephen was late to one of their brainstorming sessions for their new artificial intelligence and Tony was getting antsy. He knew the wizard had other obligations, but part of him couldn’t help but worry. What if Stephen was in trouble? What if he was hurt? That was ridiculous. The guy was goddamn Gandalf. He could take care of himself. But that didn’t stop Tony from worrying.

“You okay boss?”

“Yeah. Just… worried about Stephen.”

“I see. Makes sense.”

“What?” Tony stopped pacing, looking up at the ceiling in confusion.

“Well, you’ve formed a strong bond with Dr. Strange. It makes sense that you’d worry.” 

“Bond? That’s bullshit.”

The artificial intelligence let out a soft chuckle. “No. It’s good. Your medical scans show an overall increase in serotonin, oxytocin, and dopamine ever since the doctor showed up.”

“I’m not a neuroscientist, FRIDAY. That’s Dumbledor’s job.”

“You’ve been happier.” FRIDAY paused thoughtfully, or as thoughtfully as a machine could. “I haven’t seen you laugh like this in a long time.”

“Oh.” Tony paused, cheeks flushing. He hopped up onto one of the work tables, swinging his legs idly. “Well, I really like him. He’s nice, and funny. And he understands me.” He stopped. If he had a heart, it would have beat faster. “I trust him.”

FRIDAY paused. After years and years of watching over Tony Stark, the artificial intelligence knew that trust was not something that came easy to the isolated genius.

For Stephen, it had been Wong. There had been an… incident at Tony’s lab involving superglue, Peter, and DUM-E. As a result their usual workspace was out of commission until Happy could get everything cleaned up. And for the time being, well, there was plenty of space for them to work in the Sanctum Sanctorum, so Stephen had portaled them over (even though it was like, a ten minute walk). He gave Tony a quick tour, watching as the inventor stared, starry-eyed, at all the magical artifacts, demanding a scientific explanation for each. Then they’d settled down in Stephen’s office with a respective cup of tea and coffee to work out the latest kinks in writing the noradrenaline endorphin program.

Wong had watched the way the two fired off each other, how they bounced thoughts back and forth so fast they didn’t even bother formulating proper sentences, so sure that the other would understand what they meant that they didn’t need to. He saw how their minds worked in tandem, combining their two worlds, magic and machinery- two completely incompatible concepts- and weaving them together into a masterpiece of wonder.

Then there were their auras. Every person had one. Wong’s own was a light, minty green. Stephen’s was a rich navy blue flecked with green and gold. Tony’s was a deep red, sparkling with shards of pyrite. But when the two came together, when they slipped into their familiar rapport, their auras softened, fusing together and melting into a deep violet gold. Wong had seen a lot of things in his life, but he’d never seen anything like that. People’s auras always stayed separate. The closest he knew of was people gaining tiny waves of the color from the aura of a person they trusted dearly, but that wasn’t what was happening here. But if Wong had to hypothesize a reason, he would probably say soulmates. An old fable, but one that had prevailed through time and tradition. Perhaps the word held weight after all.

Tony stayed well into the night, the two pacing around in circles, surrounded by papers and computer screens. Stephen had a habit of humming as he worked and Tony talked aloud. Needless to say, Wong got no sleep. But then again, neither did they. When the sun finally rose in the morning, they had found a solution to their problem and Happy had fixed the situation at the lab. Tony had gathered up his things and Wong, who was more than happy to see him go, eagerly escorted him to the front door alongside Stephen.

The second the inventor had gone, the door closing quietly behind him, Stephen had let out a small sigh, longing flickering in his eyes. Wong had raised a skeptical eyebrow, watching as the sorcerer supreme stared off into the distance, pining after Tony Stark. After a second he seemed to come to, blinking back to consciousness. He looked over at Wong and glared.

“What are you staring at?” he said, tone clipped.

“You like him, don’t you?”

“What? Of course. We’re colleagues. We’re working together,” Strange said, cheeks pinkening. Wong gave him the deadest of deadpan stares in reply.

“You know what I mean, Stephen. Stop being coy.”

“Fine. But nothing’s going to happen. It’ll fade away.”

It didn’t. Two months later saw them nearing the end of their project, which they had christened NATSHA, (Neuro Augmented Teachable Socio-programmed Holographic Structure) in honor of one of Tony’s closest friends and fellow Avenger. (And because she was still a little mad about her namesake in Clint’s daughter becoming ‘Nathaniel’)

As for their relationship, now that the two of them knew, and everyone knew that they knew, everyone figured it was only a matter of time before the two confessed. Each man was aware of their feelings towards the other, but as usual, blunt idiocy stood in the way of their relationship.

Their fellow Avengers, new and old alike, dropped the most obvious hints, practically pushing the two together. One time, Peter even set up a fancy dinner for the three of them, then bailed, claiming there was a Spiderman-worthy emergency. But despite their obvious emotions and help from their friends, the two men were just too damn stubborn.

That is, until the day NATSHA was officially born. They’d spent two whole days at the lab, sleep and self-care taking a back seat when faced with the excitement upon nearing the end of their project. And on what had to be their millionth cup of coffee, Stephen watched with bated breath as Tony finished the last line of NATSHA’s code and clicked enter.

Stephen let out a soft gasp. Tony grinned, staring up at Stephen with wide, brown eyes. Stephen smiled back, euphoria rushing through his veins.

“We did it,” he breathed, still in shock. “We really did it!”

“I can’t believe it,” Tony said.

Stephen’s head was spinning with euphoria. Months and months of back-breaking work, of hunching over sheets of code at one in the morning to scan for mistakes, of writing programs and rewriting them to fix miniscule compatibility issues- and it had all lead to this. Of course they would still have to test it out and fix all the inevitable bugs and kinks in the programming, but for now, they were content. Even after the countless long nights and what had to have been millions of cups of coffee, Stephen couldn’t bring himself to regret a thing. He smiled down at Tony, waves of sleep and adrenaline mixing together to create a confusing cocktail of light-headedness. His deep blue-grey eyes met Tony, shaking hands finding their place on the shorter man’s shoulders.

Stephen was suddenly struck with how many shades of brown there were in Tony’s eyes. There was an overlay of melting chocolate and rich mahogany, but between those shades were shifting tones of amber and koa wood, flecks of umber and dashes of red mixed in with the soft hues of ginger, fawn, and bronze. They reminded Stephen of walking through a forest after a rainstorm, trees darkened by water and glistening in the sunlight. Beautiful. Tony’s face softened, cheeks reddening as he watched Stephen carefully.

Then they forgave all semblance of gentle caution and dove right into a kiss.

It was by no means neat and clean, and it was far from perfect. It was messy and uncomfortable, full of clacking teeth and accidental tongue, but to them it was the best kiss ever. There were no fireworks, but then again, there never were. Fireworks are a trope constructed by romance writers to trick the reader into believing their current relationship is inadequate and fool them into filling the ‘void’ in their heart with meaningless drivel about love triangles and Paris. Instead, however, a gentle warmth spread between them, like the feeling of snuggling up with a hot tea in a cafe as you watch pedestrians struggle with umbrellas in the windy downpour outside. Like standing at the edge of a cliff, wind stinging your pink cheeks as you watched the world below. When you wake up to the first crisp winds of Autumn accompanied by golden leaves and the endless blue of Earth’s atmosphere. When you stare up at the summer sky late at night and watch the stars; millions upon millions of dead lights all hung in the inky backdrop of the night sky just to shine down on the Earth and cradle it in silver warmth.

They broke apart, cheeks pink and breaths short. Stephen smiled, nervous at first, then happy as Tony responded in turn.  
Stephen cleared his throat, trying to find words amid all the emotion pooling in his head. “Tony, I- I think I like you,” he whispered, voice as gentle as the snow falling outside.

Tony smiled. “I think I like you too.”

After that, time seemed to speed up. Weddings and funerals, births and deaths. Life carried on, Tony and Stephen running through every act of their relationship; fluff and smut, domesticity and fights, breakups and reconciliation, and finally, weddings and retirement. The years stretched like taffy before Stephen’s eyes, the good and the bad and the boring all mixing together to form the tasteless play called life.

Everything ends eventually, though. Tony was the first to die, although it was at the hands of a heart attack, not a battle for Earth. And even after years of medical experience, there was nothing Stephen could do but watch as they carried the body of his husband of twenty-two years away from him on a stretcher.

He carried on, of course. Mourning was nothing new to the doctor. He’d lost many people over the years, after all. Being a superhero wasn’t exactly a safe job. He continued serving as the sorcerer supreme. He started accepting acolytes at the Sanctum Sanctorum. He taught and he fought and he continued on living the life Tony would have wanted him to live. But some days, long, painful days when his bones hurt and he could feel his soul ache for its second half, he couldn’t bring himself to do more than stand before the window of his bedroom and watch the place Stark tower stood tall against the New York skyline, rolling his wedding band between his shaking fingers.  
He would see Tony again one day, he was sure of it. It was only a matter of time.

Stephen shook his head, mind spinning. His mouth tasted like metal. It’d had only been a fraction of a second, not even 1,555,623.78ths of of one in fact, but it felt like he’d lived a whole lifetime. He’d seen them win. He’d seen them return to Earth. He’d seen himself fall in love.  
Stephen bit his lip, guilt flooding him. That had been wrong. Undoubtedly. There was no way he could justify following the fantastical trains of thought that was a relationship between him and Ton- Stark. Between him and Stark.

But it had been so long since he had been in love. And to feel it, even just the ghostly wisps of affection translated between the multiverse… it had been intoxicating. And even if it was unrealistic, his chest seemed to stutter whenever he thought of the genius and his heart of energy.

But Stephen should have expected that after what he did. He’d gone in too deep. He’d fallen into the chasm of the infinite similarities of their multiverses. He’d let the details slip into his mind and mingle with the facts of his life here in his universe. He let his visions impact his emotions.

Stephen felt a tear trickle down his cheek. He loved him. He loved Tony Stark. But he couldn’t. He was in love with a dream. An illusion. They had no future together. It wasn’t possible.

Tony had Pepper. Tony would have Morgan. And Tony would have to die.

Stephen’s heart broke. In all the futures where they survived he and Stark had grown close. If not lovers, then friends. And now, after watching all the millions upon millions of scenarios unfold, millions upon millions of futures woven out before him like frost on a pane of glass, Stephen couldn’t help but love that beautiful broken man. He had seen more than he should have and now he would love more than he could afford to.

Of the 14,000,605 he’d seen, there was only one future where the universe emerged unscathed. And every single one of the involved sacrificing the time stone allowing Thanos to snap. And then, after watching Tony build his life, build his family, from the soul realm, Stephen himself would lead the incredible man to his doom like a pig to the slaughter house.

But he couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t. He didn’t know how, but he was going to save Tony Stark if it was the last thing he did. Hell, he’d re-write all of time and space just to see Tony laugh. He grit his teeth. He had to.

His eyes snapped open and he tumbled to the ground, mind spinning. Someone caught him, whispering calming things in his ear. But all he could think about was Tony.

“Hey, you okay, douchebag?”

Stephen’s eyes snapped up.

“T-Tony…”

“You alright there?”

“I- Yeah. I’m fine.”

Defeating Thanos was quite easy, in fact. The error Stephen found he had made in the other universes came much sooner, and in the form of Peter Quill, who, in every multiverse Strange had examined, was an idiot. When the moment arrived, Stephen was utterly confounded at the simplicity of their error. He’d been looking too far into the future to see it, examining all the tiny ticks and flaws in their plan, but now, after he watched Peter Quill scream in rage about his girlfriend and punch Thanos in the face five seconds before they won the battle, he realised the reason they lost was far more simple.

All he had needed to do to avert Tony’s death, Thanos’s snap, and the death of half the universe was pull the time stone from its storage dimension and use it to rewind and smack some sense into Quill before the battle. Then they’d managed to pull off the gauntlet and Tony had sliced off Thanos’s head while Stephen portaled the stones back to their previous locations.

All in all, it was over in about a minute.

In the end, as they stood over Thanos’s lifeless corpse, Stephen felt a rush of comfort, yet dread. They’d done it. They’d defeated the Mad Titan. They’d done the impossible and changed the future. Stephen should have been happy. But what he’d seen in the alternate timelines had… changed him. Before he’d looked at Tony and seen an annoying, albeit incredibly intelligent asshole. But now, after all he’d been through in this multiverse and all the others, all he could see was a beautiful, broken man whom he longed to hold.

His eyes flickered over to Tony, and he felt his heart stutter against his will. The golden light of Titan’s sun filtered through the smaller man’s hair, spinning soft brown into gold. His eyes shone, deep and sad beyond their years. Even after everything he had accomplished all the man could see was his shortcomings.

Stephen looked away, gritting his teeth. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. He didn’t have the right to interfere with Tony’s life, no matter how much he longed to.

They did indeed have a party on the Milano, and both Tony and Stephen did in fact have a round of the horrible, tar-like alcohol, but in this reality, they failed to kiss. Instead, Stephen hovered at the edge of the party, watching as the others stumbled farther and farther away from the realm of sobriety. He nursed his own drink, heart panging painfully as he watched Tony dance with the others, self-loathing put on hold for the party. The dim, hazy light of the ship’s den surrounded him in a sparkling mist, every emotion, each detail sharpened into hyperfocus. Every cut, every bruise, every victory blatant against the canvas of Tony Stark. Stephen found himself leaning further and further into his drink as the night grew long.

It would take roughly a month to get back to Earth, the Guardians had said. The warp engines had been damaged in the battle on Titan and it would be slow work to repair them. In the meantime, however, they would start manually flying back towards Earth and everyone would get a room aboard the ship.

Stephen was intrigued to see how it would go.

The first day had been rough. There were fights, and quite a few hangovers from the night before. Unfortunately, although there were a number of earnest souls aboard the ship such as Peter and Mantis, the majority of them (read: Tony, Rocket, Quill, Nebula, and of course, himself) were egotistical dickbags with way too much pride.

Needless to say, it was a rough start. But the fight between Tony and Rocket had been particularly bad. The raccoon had started the repairs on the light speed engines when Tony had passed by, looked over, and made a snide comment about allocation of supplies. The scuffle that followed had not been pleasant. It turns out that Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, Iron Man, and the leader of the Avengers, had been easily defeated by a two foot tall rodent. Tony had been lucky that Peter had been around. The boy had yanked the two apart, seen the bleeding claw marks on Tony’s forehead, and frantically pulled Tony towards Stephen’s room.

That’s where they were now. Tony sitting cross legged on Stephen’s bed while the doctor pulled a medical kit out of his pocket storage dimension.

“Wow doc, what else do you keep in there?” Tony snickered.

Stephen rolled his eyes and pulled out a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and a gauze pad. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Stephen froze, cheeks reddening. He had forgotten. He had fallen in love with the Tony from another multiverse, not this one. In this one they were barely acquaintances, not even friends. He couldn’t flirt with his Tony. He looked away, thoroughly ashamed. But Tony laughed, and Stephen let out a sharp sigh of relief.

“Wow, that’s pretty forwards, doc. Take me to dinner first,” Tony replied. Stephen rolled his eyes.

“I do have standards, you know.”

“And I meet them?” Tony teased.

Stephen but his lip. Of course he met them. He exceeded them by miles and miles. Not that Tony could know. “You just got in a fight with a raccoon and lost,” he said. “Color me impressed.”

“What can I say? I’m feisty.”

They lapses into silence after that. Stephen dabbed Tony’s wound, the inventor hissing quietly at the sting of alcohol. Turns out, raccoon claws were quite sharp. Stephen pulled a roll of waterproof medical tape and a fresh gauze pad and taped it over the laceration, hands shaking.

He paused. This was a perfect opportunity to improve his connection with the other man. But he shouldn’t. But maybe… if it was just to suggest a good idea that could further the progress of the scientific world; not to plant the seeds of a romantic relationship... that would be okay. Right?

“Can I ask you a question?” Stephen mumbled. Tony shrugged.

“Sure. Knock yourself out, Gandalf.”

Stephen flushed. “Shut up.”

He cleared his throat, trying to work up the courage to say something. This one question could change the course of their universe. It dictated whether they became friends or stayed acquaintances. It dictated the rest of Stephen’s life. But by asking it he was meddling in Tony’s. But he longed to. He wanted to be a part of Tony’s life, even if it would forever change the future of their world. Besides, it couldn’t hurt to be friends, right?

“Well what is it?” Tony asked.

Stephen’s hands trembled. The ships air tasted like pennies.

“Have you… have you ever thought about writing an AI based on neurological brain maps utilizing endorphins as self-expanding programs?”

Tony was silent for a minute. Stephen held his breath, watching as the inventor’s eyes flickered. Then the other man cracked a smile and Stephen let out a sigh of relief.

“That’s genius, Doc. And how would you suggest we simulate the learning aspect of the human brain?”

“Ever-expanding self-written code, of course,” Stephen shot back with a grin.

“Interesting. Go on.”

They spent what had to be another two hours talking and Stephen was surprised by how easy it was to slip into playful rapior with the other man. Stephen had been treading so lightly around him ever since he looked into the future, sure he couldn’t connect the Tony he’d seen with the one he had, but throughout the multiverse, Tony was Tony. He was snarky, brilliant, and charming as hell. He was like a neutron star, bright and dazzling and pulling Stephen and everything around him into his orbit with almost effortless grace. Every second Stephen spent with the other man he fell further and further in love.

But he couldn’t do this. It wasn’t what was written for their universe. Tony was supposed to have Pepper. Stephen was supposed to have… Christine? Clea? (he’d seen her in a few of the other, more abstract multiverses he’d flipped through) He didn’t really know anymore. He couldn’t really picture himself with either. Or any woman. But he wasn’t supposed to be gay. Not in this universe, at least. So what was wrong with him? Why was he in love with Tony? Was he broken? Had he done something wrong when he’d looked through the alternate timelines? But come to think of it he’d never really been comfortable with any of his past relationships. Christine had been the closest he’d been to caring. They hadn’t slept together much, and when they’d tired dating… well let’s just say, even after getting his PhD and MD at the same time, spending years as a neurosurgeon, and then mastering the mystic arts, dating her was one of the hardest things he had ever done. But even when they’d been seeing each other he’d always viewed her more of a colleague; a friend, even, but never a real significant other.

Well, being gay wasn’t a bad thing. It just wasn’t what he had been expecting.

He took a deep breath and slipped into the astral plane, then deeper, searching through the fibers of their reality, searching for the base of their universe’s code, plucking through glowing threads of instructions like the strings of a harp. Every universe had a base code, one that dictated certain set points, such as who a person is and their defining characteristics and how that would impact the rest of the world. Stephen’s was closely wound with the Avengers and those of Kamar-Taj. He examined it, rolling the glowing navy band between his fingers, flecks of gold sparkling in the non-existent existential light of the astral plane. Sure enough, he had been coded as straight.

So why wasn’t he comfortable with women? Why did he feel so… inclined towards Tony?

Stephen pulled himself from the astral plane and reentered his body, rolling over in his bed aboard the ship. Everything was wrong. He shouldn’t love Tony. He couldn’t. It just wasn’t written in the fabric of the universe. So maybe he should leave it be. Try and ignore it. Just follow the path that had been laid out before him. Then maybe everything would work out. He’d get over Tony. He had to.

They spent more and more time with each other as they flew back to Earth. Stephen had tried to avoid it at first, but Tony Stark was a very persistent man. Stephen would take dinner to his room. Tony would follow, catching the sorcerer before he could lock his door. He would ascend to the top deck to meditate and Tony would trot after him, intent on telling Stephen about his latest idea or invention . So after a while, Stephen had given in. Tony didn’t see him as a love interest, only a friend and intellectual equal, and so Stephen treated their relationship as such.

But God was it torture.

He kept telling himself his feelings would fade, but every time he saw Tony his heart ached more and more.

It was Peter who noticed first this time. They’d been eating lunch in the mess hall, just the three of them. Tony had made some dumb joke and Stephen had laughed when everyone else within hearing range had let out varying groans of irritation. Then Tony had left to get another glass of water and Stephen had let out a long sigh, eyes following the other man. Unbeknownst to him, Peter has been observing the whole affair.

“Hey, Mr. Strange?”

Stephen snapped out of his daydream. “It’s Doctor.” Peter looked confused. Stephen sighed. “Call me whatever you want, kid. What is it?”

“Are you okay?”

The question caught Stephen off guard. “Yes. Of course. Why?”

“I dunno. You just seem different. Distracted. Especially around Mr. Stark,” Peter said.

Stephen stiffened. He had been trying so hard to maintain a professional, platonic relationship between them. But if others had noticed… It was going to be okay. Nothing would happen between them. Stephen just had to wait until his feelings faded and his universal coding reset itself. Until then, well, a wise man once said ‘fake it till you make it,’ and Stephen intended to follow that rule like it was the word of the gods.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he blurted, a rush of color painting his high cheekbones a deep pink.

“You like him, don’t you?” Peter said, a knowing glint in his eyes. Well, there goes his plan.

“What?! That’s preposterous!” Stephen cried.

“It’s okay, Doctor Strange. It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Peter said. Stephen sent him a sharp look.

“I don’t like Tony. We’re just friends.”

“Okay. Whatever you say.”

Despite his best intentions, he and Tony became friends. After all, the Milano was small and they were stuck together for over a month as they flew back home. So, as the only three from Earth (Stephen couldn’t really bring himself to count Quill, who, in any case, was from Missouri, which might as well have been a separate planet), they had grown quite close. It became customary for Tony, Peter, and Stephen to eat together. Sometimes they all talked, sometimes Peter went on long-winded attempts at explanations of things called Vines while the two adults watched on in confusion, and other times Tony and Peter would talk about science and Stephen would read one of the books he had in his storage dimension, content to let their voices fade into a calming background of gentle noise.

But spending time with Tony still hurt.

Stephen, however unintentionally, had formed a connection with the other man, albeit in another multiverse. He had lived out a lifetime of experiences, of dates and misadventures, of pillowtalk and dreams. But those facts didn’t translate to this one, and that wasn’t what was written for this multiverse, and he knew, however unfortunate, that he had to refrain from forming a romantic connection with the person who had stolen his heart.

He’d already risked upsetting the balance of the universe by befriending Tony, but luckily for him things weren’t too far gone to salvage. Sure they were friends now, but they were friends in most of the other multiverses too. That was okay. That’s all they were. Friends. Not particularly close ones, but close enough for the label. And that was safe enough for Stephen.

That is, until one night.

It had been late and Stephen was just starting to drift off to sleep when a knock at his door pulled him from any semblance of rest. He sighed and stood, padding across the cold metal floor to his cabin’s door. It was probably just Peter, here to ask him to do magic tricks again.

It was Tony.

The man looked exhausted, massive dark bags under his eyes. He was leaning against the doorway, hair messy and unkempt. His usually bright, playful eyes were dull and hopeless. He looked terrible. And then there was his expression. He looked horrified. Haunted. Like he’d seen a million years of carnage and destruction pass around him.

“Tony… are you okay?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to talk to.”

“Come in.”

Tony stumbled over to Stephen’s bed and sat down. Stephen hovered by the door, unsure of what to do next. He settled for sitting across the bed from Tony, legs folded neatly.

“So what’s wrong?” he asked softly.

“I-I” The man hung his head in his hands, rubbing his palms against his eyes. “I’ve been having nightmares ever since, well, forever almost. But they’ve gotten a lot worse recently. Between Thanos and Ultron and the Chintauri and Steve-” His voice caught in his throat and Stephen saw tears well in his eyes.

“Steve?”

“The accords. The Civil War. He- I-” Tony took a deep shuddering breath. “We used to date.” Stephen’s eyes widened at that. Tony looked up at him, eyes silently flashing with concern. Stephen leveled his expression and nodded.

“Go on.”

“Well, we used to date. Back when the Avengers first started. We had chemistry, y’know? But things were starting to get rough, and he just… didn’t care as much about me as I cared about him and I was starting to notice. Then Bucky came back and, well, I knew Steve would choose him over me, but I didn’t think he’d try and…”

Stephen didn’t want to press, but he’d been a doctor long enough to know that to solve the problem one must know the root.

“And what?” he asked softly.

“And kill me.”

The words hung heavy in the metallic air.

“I’m so sorry.” That was all Stephen could think to say. Pathetic.

“It’s okay. It was a while ago. I’ve had time to heal.” Tony’s eyes darkened and a hand ghosted over the front of his chest, just below the soft, blue glow of his arc reactor. “Literally.”

“But if you’re dreaming of him that could be indicative of a-”

“I wasn’t dreaming about him.” Tony’s voice was icy and cold.

“Then what were you dreaming about, exactly?” Stephen countered.

“I-I” Tony let out a long sigh and ran a hand through his messy hair. “I don’t know. I guess it was a battle or something. We were in New York. And everyone, Peter, Pepper, Steve, you- everyone was… dead.” His eyes fell flat and Stephen wondered just how long the nightmares had plagued him. “And the city was in ruins, ash and fire everywhere and I couldn’t do anything. I had failed. I couldn’t protect anyone. Not my friends, not the city. I was all alone.”

Stephen pauses, licking his lips as he watched Tony’s face carefully. He’d encountered these situations before in the alternate timelines. After all why shouldn’t he? After everything Tony had been through it would have been surprising if he didn’t have PTSD. But how could he handle it here? In the other timelines all he’d had to do was pull Tony close to his chest and kiss his forehead, mumbling comforting words until he fell asleep. But here… things were more complicated.

But gentle physical contact could be comforting, right? It wasn’t an excuse to touch the other man, it was therapeutic. He was doing this for Tony.

Well, that was complete bullshit, but it definitely could help Tony.

Stephen slowly raised a shaking hand to Tony’s shoulder. The other man startled at the touch, but relaxed into it after a second. Stephen took a deep breath. Vishanti give him strength.

“You are only one man, Tony.”

“What?”

“There is only so much you can do. Anyone else in your position would have caved after years and years of the horrors that you’ve seen, but you’re still fighting. You’ve done incredible things. The things you’ve built; the Avengers, Stark Industries, your friendships- it’s all incredible. You’ve done the work of a hundred men with nothing but determination and heart. You’re incredible, Tony. And you’re definitely not alone. Peter, Pepper, the Avengers,” Stephen paused. “Me; we all have your back. No matter what crazy alien warlord comes to Earth, no matter what demons try and destroy us, we’ll always be there to fight by your side. I promise.”

Tony started up at Stephen, sad eyes full of starlight. Then, ever so slowly, he smiled and leaned into the doctors embrace.

“Thanks Stephen.”

They stayed like that for a while, sitting curled up on Stephen’s bed, staring out the silver-lined window into the endless void of space speckled with stars and the brushstrokes of nebulas. Tony shivered in Stephen’s arms. Despite the warmth of the doctors embrace, the ship was still cold. The cloak seemed to sense his discomfort and floated over, gently draping itself over both their shoulders.

“I’m afraid to talk to Pepper,” Tony whispered, voice barely above the hum of the ships engine.

“What? Why?” Stephen asked, startled. In almost all the timelines Stephen had seen Pepper had greeted Tony with open arms and a kiss on the cheek. And Stephen was infinitely jealous of her. He wanted to be Tony’s endgame, not her. But this wasn’t the right multiverse for that. He’d have to let that dream go, even if it pained him.

“I told her no more surprises. And I told her that last time and the time before that. But I don’t think she’s gonna give me another chance.”

“I’m sure she will. She’s the love of your life.”

“That might not be enough anymore.”

The words hung heavy between them. Stephen didn’t know what to say. He’d watched 14,000,605 futures pass by but he hadn’t seen this coming.

“Don’t speak so soon. You’re a good man. She’s lucky to have you.” He paused, words stuck in his throat. He shouldn’t say them. He wasn’t supposed to. But he was far too weak to stop himself. “But if you ever need anything, ever, my door is always open. 117 Bleeker Street.”

“Thanks Stephen.”

The taller man let out a long, sad sigh. He shouldn’t be doing this. It was against everything this universe was programmed to do. If he kept going he’d just dig deeper and deeper until there was no way out. But at the same time he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He was at the edge of a cliff, inches away from slipping off and tumbling into the icy waters below. He still had time to back out, but he knew, deep down in his heart, that it was far too late for that.

They arrived back on Earth a few weeks later. They landed on the air pad outside the Avengers compound. The others were there to greet them. Well, most of them. Stephen found Wong, but he couldn’t help but watch as Tony scanned the crowd for a familiar head of red hair. She wasn’t there. Stephen frowned. She should have been. In the future, after Thanos snapped, she’d been there to greet Tony when Danvers had brought the ship back to Earth.

No matter. It was Tony’s life, not his, and he needed to start pulling away from the other man. Even if it hurt, continuing their relationship would only fray the delicate threads of their universes future.

That had been the beginning of the end.

Stephen hadn’t noticed it in the moment, but that one detail, that one absent presence, would begin to reveal the consequences that came with Stephen’s actions.

The doctor had distanced himself when he returned to the Sanctum Sanctorum, isolating himself from the others with the feeble excuse of reorganising the Sanctums artifacts. He just had to wait out his feelings. Then everything would right itself. His feelings would fade and the universe would heal over all the problems he had caused.

But on the second day of his self-initiated isolation, he sensed something was wrong.

The day felt normal enough, with grey overcast skies and a cool breeze blowing through the streets- typical New York weather in September. But there was a change in the magical atmosphere. A slight metallic taste. One that Stephen had felt before, most prominently when he looked into the future back on Titan.

The universe was diverting from its predetermined course. Something was about to happen.

A knock sounded against the Sanctum door. Stephen opened it slowly, on edge.

It was Tony.

The man’s eyes were red and puffy, and it was clear he had been crying. He was hunched over, hugging himself against the cold wind. He sniffled, big brown eyes wide and pleading.

“She left me.”

Stephen pulled the other man inside. Tony followed numbly. Tears still dropped down his face, painting rivers across his skin. They sat down on one of the Sanctums silk sofas and Stephen conjured two cups of tea. Tony took one, still curled up with lung-clenching sadness.

“What happened?” Stephen asked.

“I went back to Stark tower. We still have an apartment up there, so I figured that’s where she’d be. But when I knocked on the door she told me we were done.” His voice choked up. “Sh-She told me to pack my stuff and get the hell out.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I-I can’t- it’s just that I don’t understand! I try and I try and I try but it’s never enough! I win the battle but I lose the war. I lead the Avengers and Steve betrays me. I fight to save the universe but I lose the woman I love! I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t keep giving and giving and giving. It’s tearing me apart.”

He buried his head in his hands. Stephen stilled. Tony was at the tipping point. The doctor could see that. But he did have a point. He didn’t deserve any of what had happened to him. All he was, beneath the layers of crisp suits and money and glamour, was a broken man with a good soul, trying to do all he could to save the things he loved. And no one, especially a man of that caliber, deserved this.

“You’re right.”

Tony let out a strangled whimper in reply.

“You deserve better. You shouldn’t have to keep giving.” Stephen’s breath caught in his throat. “And I’m sure that there’s someone out there who’s willing to give everything for you,” he finished, voice softer than a whisper. Tony looked up at him with his beautiful, watery, brown eyes and Stephen could feel himself fall off that cliff and into a sea of sorrow and heartbreak. “You deserve someone who cares about you just as much as you care about him,” Stephen finished.

There was a long pause, punctuated only by eye contact. Stephen’s normally stoic exterior cracked underneath the other man’s gaze, resolve crumbling with it. Tony’s sadness seemed to wash away, if only temporarily and Stephen watched with bated breath as Tony’s cold eyes flicked down to Stephen’s lips then up again.

They both leaned forwards and their lips met.

If their first kiss in the alternate timeline had been silvery warmth, this one was a goddamn bonfire. Heat rushed through Stephen like heartburn, tingling hot against his skin and washing over him in heavy waves. Gone was the pleasant imagery of autumn days and rainy cafes. Instead it was replaced by vibrant, bright chaos; somewhat a reflection of the fervent, aggressive kiss. The metallic taste of the air heightened to a coppery peak. Stephen let out a strangled moan, mind spinning faster than a windmill in a hurricane.

He was kissing Tony Stark. He was defying all the laws of the pre-written universe. He was changing both their destiny’s and permanently altering the stream of their multiverse. But goddamn he was kissing Tony Stark and it was fucking heaven. His lips tasted like chocolate and mint and perfection. Stephen was drowning in it. But hell, it was the best way he could think to die.

They broke apart, gasping for breath before diving right back in. Stephen’s shaking hands fumbled with the buttons of Tony’s shirt and Tony tangled his fingers in Stephen’s hair. They broke apart again and Tony stared up at him with those beautiful eyes.

“You know this is just rebound sex, right?”

An icy needle shot through Stephen’s heart, but he swallowed and nodded.

“Of course.”

The next morning dawned bright and cold. Sun shone through the gaps in the curtains of Stephen’s room, paving dustmotes down to the floor where several piles of clothes lay in varying states of disarray. Stephen was nestled under the comforter, a warm arm slung around his abdomen.

He blinked awake and yawned before glancing first at the clock, then at the man sleeping beside him. His lips were parted, small, shallow breaths marked only by the rise and fall of his chest. Tony’s other arm, the one not resting on Stephen’s hip, was curled around his head, face mere inches from Stephen’s. His face was calm, free of the premature worry lines and permanent eyebags. He looked so peaceful. More peaceful than Stephen had ever seen.

Warmth and satisfaction swelled in Stephen’s heart. This was what he wanted. To wake up next to Tony this morning and every one after that.

It was perfect.

Stephen let out a soft sigh and relaxed. He didn’t have to get up yet. He wanted to stay and enjoy the moment; soak up the sun-filled memory dipped in the hazy fog of sleep. He curled closer to Tony, the other man’s even sighs lulling him closer and to sleep’s enticing edge. Everything was perfect, if even for a moment.

The next time he woke Tony was gone.

A wave of sadness washed over him. He sat up and buried his head in his hands, staring at the spot where Tony had been. He should have expected it, really. It was just rebound sex, nothing more, nothing less. It hadn’t meant anything other than the fact that Tony had been sad and desperate and Stephen had been way too willing to give himself to the other man.

But it would be okay. He could deal with this. Maybe they couldn’t have a real relationship in this universe, but sex would work too. Stephen would be okay. He could distance himself emotionally. It would be fine. They would be fine.

Stephen knew that was a lie.

That had been the first time they slept together.

After that they fell into a sort of routine, a semblance of unnatural normalcy surrounding their dynamic. They’d meet up, fuck, and then it would be over, one of them leaving immediatly the following morning. There was no pillow talk, no morning-after breakfasts, no affection outside of the bedroom. It was almost clinical, in a sense. But over time, things began to change. Just tiny things, but to Stephan, they made all the difference.

Tony complained that the other man wore too many layers (four belts and a sash is just crazy, Stephen!) So he started dressing more casually, in sweaters and collared shirts. Instead of just appearing at each other’s doors late at night they began texting (Stephen may have been the sorcerer supreme, but he did have a phone. He wasn’t a savage.) plans beforehand. One night Tony proposed that they go out for a drink before hand. They’d met up at a bar near the Sanctum and had a few drinks; an act dangerously close to the mockery of a date- before heading back to Stephen’s for the night. That event became a commonplace before their rendezvous in bed.

Tony was seemingly fine with it. The man treated their sessions like a business meeting, always leaving with a calm, cool and collected air about him while Stephen stared after him with longing. While Tony was stoic, the doctor was stuck on the side of a cliff, shaking hands scrabbling at the crumbling rocks, trying to pull himself away from his emotions. But he had already fallen, and climbing back up was impossible now. The only option was sink or swim, and Stephen was too tired to keep fighting.

Stephen had known what he was getting into the first time he said yes, but in a much more real sense, he had no idea. Every time he saw Tony his heart felt like it was being crushed; dragged down into the depths of his stomach and smothered until it’s beat stopped entirely. Waves of hatred washed over him, practically rendering him useless. Every time he saw Tony he just wanted to die.

He told himself he could get through it. He could force his emotions down, smother them with casual sex. But if anything, his evenings with Tony were just strengthening them. Tony was a goddamn ocean, deep and vast and beautiful and Stephen was drowning. He couldn’t love Tony. The universe forbade it. But he did. They couldn’t ever have a real relationship. It would forever alter the future of their world. He couldn’t keep doing this. But he had to. If he stopped now it would destroy him.

So he forced himself not to feel, to numb his emotions and push himself through each day, trying each night, as he meditated before bed, to forget the futures he had seen back on Titan. Those nine seconds that had forever changed his life. If he could just forget the lives he’d watched pass, forget what had happened on the Milano, forget the Lucky Charms, NATSHA, and forget their goddamn auras- if he could just forget all that then maybe everything would be normal again. It was just sex afterall. He could handle it.

And he did. They kept it up for a few months, always meeting up roughly once a week. And it hurt like hell, but Stephen kept holding on, clutching every brush of their hands, every meeting of their eyes like it was a lifeline. He could do this. He had to do this.

But now, Stephen feared he was starting to break.

All he could think about was Tony. That wonderful, brilliant man. The sadness that rested in his eyes. All the fear hidden behind his cocky jokes. He loved him so much. So why couldn’t the other man see it?!

Dear Vishanti this was terrible. Curled up in Tony’s bed, sheets cold against his hot skin, the genius sleeping soundly by his side- it was so horribly domestic it made Stephen’s stomach churn. This wasn’t what he wanted.

Why didn’t Tony love him?

Every time he saw Tony he felt like hitting himself. He had officially joined the Avengers at Tony’s request. But he couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the other man during meetings, training- hell even breakfast was a struggle. And each time he saw Tony- it felt like he was corroding from the inside out. Like something was burning his flesh away, hollowing him out. He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to escape.

God he just wanted to fucking die.

He went through phases. He either ate too much or nothing at all. He either slept for a week or stayed awake for days and days, reading all the texts in the library over and over until his eyes burned and his mind was almost rid of Tony Stark. But either way, all he could think about was Tony. He plagued Stephen’s every thought until all the doctor wanted was to be free from everything. The only thing keeping himself from self-destruction was fear of the unknown.

He was the anomaly in their universe. Stephen was the reason everything was fucked up. His coding was wrong. Glitchy. Useless. Tony was supposed to die but Stephen saved him. Stephen was supposed to be straight but he wasn’t. He was supposed to be fine right now and he was anything but that. He was supposed to be the best sorcerer supreme in all of history but instead he was wallowing in his own misery, drowning his sorrows in booze. He wasn’t sensitive. He was cold and clinical. And he damned well wasn’t Tony Stark’s. He couldn’t be.

Stephen reached for the well-loved bottle on his desk, room spinning around him. He needed to stop. But if he stopped all he’d feel was that horrible, cold burning sensation. His shaking hands, even less coordinated than usual, tipped the bottle off the edge of the desk. Stephen let out a loose string of curses, burying his head in his hands.

God he just wanted Tony. Needed him.

He stood, stumbling away from his desk and into the hall of the New York Sanctum. The cloak fluttered to his shoulders, gently steadying him as he swayed from side to side. He pulled out his sling ring, and waved his hand in a weak semblance of a circle. A portal sparked to life, edges just as wobbly as when he had first began to study the mystic arts.

Before he could change his mind, he stepped through the portal.

Tony Stark had been having a late night, something that wasn’t unusual for the genius. He was in the workshop of his apartment in Stark tower, finishing up for the night. Well, early morning really. After hours of FRIDAY’s pestering he finally caved to the idea of sleep. As much as he loved caffeine, after the past two sleepless nights he had succumbed to the unfortunate habit of skipping the coffee-making process and just eating straight-up coffee beans. And if that wasn’t a sign that he needed to sleep he wasn’t sure what was.

He let out a long yawn and padded up the stairs and into the kitchen, depositing two and a half days of coffee cups in the sink as well as an empty bag of the aforementioned coffee beans in the trash.

He was about to head upstairs to his room when a familiar crackle and a warm orange light filtered into the kitchen from down the hallway. A few seconds later there was a loud thump and the sound of shattering pottery as well as a few muttered swear words.

“Oh shit, you idiot…”

Tony raised an eyebrow at the words. It was Stephen no doubt. What the wizard was doing teleporting into his house in the middle of the night was the real question.

“Ugh! Don’t teleport into his fucking apartment- that’s- it’s wierd!”

There was another burst of orange and Tony stuck his head around the corner just in time to see Stephen stumble through the portal and vanish, sparks splashing to the ground as the portal closed.

Wow. Maybe he was more sleep-deprived than he thought.

He was about to ignore the incident and go to sleep when a knock sounded at his door. He let out a long sigh and padded down the hall to open the door.

It was indeed Stephen Strange and he was drunk as hell.

The sorcerer giggled and stumbled into Tony’s arms.

“Stephen, what the hell are you doing here? It’s two in the morning!”

“Hi, Tony,” the wizard slurred, smiling up at Tony with hazy eyes. “You’re wrong. It’s four thirty-two.” He frowned and tried again. “Two thirty-four.”

“What- I don’t- What are you doing here?”

Stephen just snickered and reached over to Tony’s door, tracing what looked like a star across the grey wood. The marks glowed and the door turned a bright, vibrant teal. Tony grit his teeth. Stephen just laughed even harder.

“It’s blue now!” he cried, giggling madly.

“Good observation. You’re turning that back later. Now come on. Let’s get you inside.”

Tony hoisted Stephen to his feet and with the help of the cloak, pulled the tall man inside and sat him down on the couch. Tony stood and crossed over to the kitchen, filling a glass with water and bringing it back to the wizard, who seemed to have gotten into a fight with his cape. He poked the fabric and it swatted him in the face.

“So. What’s going on? Why are you here?” Tony asked. Stephen looked up at him with wide, hazy eyes.

“I’m Alan Turing,” Stephen sang.

Tony rubbed his face in exasperation. This was a mess. “Sure you are, bud. Now answer the question. Why are you here?”

“I wanned to see you,” he slurred.

Tony let out a long sigh and handed Stephen the glass of water. The sorcerer tried to put it down and Tony forced it to his lips.

“Why? What’s going on? I’ve never seen you like this.”

“You never look closely enough,” Stephen muttered.

“What are you talking about?” God this was frustrating. Was this what he was like when he drank? No wonder Pepper had left him.  
Stephen leaned forwards suddenly, eyes sparking with energy. He pulled Tony close and sloppily kissed his jaw, staring up at Tony with big, grey eyes.

“Let’s have sex,” he purred, well, slurred would be more accurate.

Tony’s eyes widened and he pushed Stephen away.

“No! Absolutely not.”

Stephen’s face crumpled and tears welled in his eyes. He looked seconds away from bursting into tears.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re drunk as hell! I won’t- it’s not right!”

Stephen’s lower lip quivered and he let out a soft whine, tears dripping down his face. He sniffled and buried his face in the folds of the cloak, starting to sob. Tony had no fucking clue what to do. He wrapped a nervous arm around Stephen’s shoulders, trying to comfort the taller man.

“Woah, calm down, Stephen. What happened? What’s all this about?”

“You,” Stephen choked out.

The word hung heavy in the air for a minute. Tony ran a hand through his hair, trying to make sense of the situation.

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t.”

Stephen’s tears stopped, but he continued to stare down at his shaking hands, shame practically radiating off him. Then, just as quickly as he had grown sad, he threw himself on Tony, eyes begging him for something more. Stephen slid his hands up Tony’s sides, insecurity ridden in every gesture. Tony tried to push him off, but Stephen straddled his waist, still-teary eyes wide and pleading.

“C’mon, Tones, why don’t you wanna fuck me?” The sorcerer’s voice was high and desperate. Tony pulled Stephen’s hands off of him and the other man looked down.

“Stephen I told you I-”

“Why am I not enough?” The words were quiet, gilded with lost hope and shame.

“I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

Stephen clutched the front of Tony’s shirt and hung his head, tears dripping down his high cheekbones and onto Tony’s chest. The dim light of the moon shone through the window of the living room and painted Stephen’s hair with silver.

“I’m in love with you.”

Tony breath caught in his throat.

“I’m sorry.”

Stephen moved off of him and buried his head in his hands, silent sobs shaking his body. Tony sat, staring down at the floor, unsure of how to process everything.

“I didn’t know.” Tony felt like hitting himself. That was all he could think of?

“Shut the fuck up.” Stephen’s voice was raw and ragged.

Tony let out a long sigh. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“No. I wanna talk about it now.”

“We’ll talk about it when you’re snuggled up, ‘kay Dumbledor?”

Stephen’s face tightened. “Don’t call me that.”

“Stephen… please come upstairs. You’re killing yourself.” And it was Tony’s fault.

Stephen looked like he wanted to disagree, but he caved, silver eyes filling with a quiet sadness. Like he couldn’t say no.

“Fine.”

Tony pulled Stephen to his feet and they made their way up to the bedroom. Stephen flopped down on the bed and Tony tossed him a night shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Stephen let out a low groan and snapped his fingers, instantly changing. Evidently he was somewhat sober, but not sober enough to change by himself. Tony bit back a comment about him having to undress the sorcerer manually multiple times before. Now wasn’t the time.

Stephen’s eyes were drifting in and out of focus, eyelids slowly drifting closed before blinking open again. Tony tucked him in and placed a gentle kiss on Stephen’s forehead, smoothing back the other man’s forehead hoping his actions could portray how much he cared about him. Stephen made a soft, sleepy noise and Tony smiled softly before sitting beside him, still trying to wrap his mind around everything that had happened.

Poor Stephen. Tony had practically tortured him, luring him in with soft smiles and the mockery of dates before fucking the shit out of him and leaving without so much as a glance back. Tony rubbed his face, trying to identify what his feelings for Stephen even were. He didn’t want to promise Stephen something he couldn’t deliver. There was no way he loved him, but his feelings were certainly beyond friendship. He cared about the man, certainly enough to try and keep him in his life. But ever since Pepper- Hell ever since Steve things had been rough.

He took a shaky breath, watching Stephen. The man had fallen asleep, chest rising and falling slowly, moonlight pooling on his face and highlighting every detail. The eyebags, the exhaustion, the sadness. The man was falling apart. How had Tony not seen it sooner?  
Tony ran a hand through his hair, letting out a long sigh.

“I’m so sorry, Steph,” he whispered. “I wish I’d known. It’s just- well, I’m not good at relationships. They’re messy. Clunky. Difficult. Every single time I’ve been in one someone always gets hurt. Physically, emotionally- it doesn’t matter. I just didn’t want that to happen to you. I thought if it was just sex- if I could keep you away from me you’d be okay, but… I guess even that didn’t work.” Tony buried his head in his hands. “I hurt everyone around me. I always have. I just wish I could have kept you safe.”

A shaking hand found his. It gently pulled his hands away from his face and Tony looked over to Stephen. The other man stared up at him with those beautiful, brilliant grey eyes and Tony could feel his heart flutter. Stephen pressed a gentle kiss to Tony’s knuckles.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” Stephen paused, as if contemplating his next words carefully. “It’s mine. I’m broken. The universe says I’m not supposed to do this. That we’re not supposed to be together. It’s in the base coding.”

Tony let out a short laugh. “Well then fuck the universe.”

Tony took a deep breath, waiting for Stephen to reply. His mouth tasted like copper. Stephen blinked up at Tony before smiling. He squeezed Tony’s hand.

“Fuck the universe,” he echoed.

Tony smiled and kissed Stephen’s forehead. “Then, I suppose, if we’ve accepted the idea of completely ignoring the universes hopes and dreams of our relationship remaining platonic, will you, Dr. Stephen Strange, do me the honor of being my boyfriend?”

It was like a million years of stress had been lifted off the sorcerer’s shoulders. Tony could visibly see him relax, relief fluttering around them like butterflies. He smiled up at Tony, this one devoid of the shame and insecurity that had plagued him earlier, exchanged instead for hope.

“I would love that.”

Tony winced at the mention of the ‘L’ word.

“You know I’m not going to say ‘I love you’ yet, right?” Tony whispered. Stephen nodded, still smiling.

“S’okay with me.”

“Okay.” He paused, inching his hand over to Stephen’s. The other man took it and Tony couldn’t help the smile that crept to his face. It had been so long since he’d had something like this. “Night,” he whispered.

“Goodnight.”

Tony let out a long sigh and lay down, letting all the tension roll off his shoulders.

It may have started off about as smoothly as a motorboat in a desert, but it looked like, for once, things would work out. Tony closed his eyes and smiled, squeezing Stephen’s hand gently. Things would work out.

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfic I've written since I was twelve lol hope you enjoyed  
Btw wrote this on the plane to Scotland


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